Salty
by BruceChickinson
Summary: In which it's Zoro's birthday and Sanji's not there. Bitter, sweet and salty. (Sister fic to Bittersweet)


It was his birthday. Zoro never really cared much for that, honestly. For him, the date has always been just another opportunity to get drunk. And that was exactly what he had been doing since morning. He was sure Robin must have noticed his absence (she could even be watching him with her creepy powers) and Usopp and Franky would worry about him as usual. Thankfully Chopper was not here to give him a lecture about drinking so much. But he never did socialize much, stoic as always, the not friendly face was nothing new, right? Even so, they kept annoying him since Zou. He was sure that this could only be Luffy's deed, who certainly spread his idiocy to others and recommended that they kept an eye on him, or something. Maybe he should have threatened him with more than a kick in the mouth. Maybe he should have kicked him in the mouth right there for insinuating that he was worried about that jerk. He was fine, everything was fine. He just wasn't in the mood to be near anyone. Nor his nakama, neither the crew's allies, who barely knew and about who he couldn't care less. He was fine by himself. It was always like this, why would it be any different now? It was his birthday, so what?

In the two years he spent apart from the crew he also didn't celebrate his birthday. No one asked and he did not make a point of announcing it either. Mihawk had forbidden him to drink until he mastered haki then it wouldn't have made any difference anyway since he could not get wasted. He thought that when he came back it would be different, though. For some stupid reason, his heart was waiting for it...he hoped it was like the last time. But it wouldn't be. Idiot. He didn't even like birthdays, he shouldn't be doing this drama. When did he become so soft?

He watched the waves without much enthusiasm as he emptied his umpteenth bottle. The familiar taste of alcohol made his mouth bitter, he liked it very much, he always has. But it was not enough today. Nothing would be enough, he thought bitterly. The pain overflowed in the form of force and the bottle he held shattered into pieces. Tsc. Zoro hated to waste alcohol. He threw away the glass and licked the blood from the hand on which the bottle lay. He had been so angry when he discovered that Sanji left them. The pain and betrayal evident in his body language and in his bitter words. Damn, he was being salty about it. Still, he cared about Sanji. Pride, however, had kept him from going after the cook.

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."

Sanji was an idiot. He had abandoned all of them. He wanted to do everything by himself.

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid."

Zoro was an idiot. He shouldn't have trusted him. He should never have been vulnerable to someone again. His fingers lightly stroked Wado's grip as he thought.

No. That's not why he was an idiot. He should have gone after him. He should be there. Instead he was here alone, his only source of information was his own imagination. Sanji needed him. He could be suffering. He who has always worried so much about Zoro ... and what did Zoro give in return? He turned his back and pretended that he didn't even care.

He closed his eye tight and took a deep breath. He touched his fingers to his lips and perhaps it was the effect of drunkenness, but even if there was only the bitterness of the drink and the rust of his own blood in his mouth, he could have sworn that if he'd forced his brain enough he could taste ... taste that birthday cake.

After Sanji joined the crew he wanted to know everyone's special dates to be able to make the proper menus for all of them.

"How come you do not want a cake on your birthday ?" Sanji said putting his hands on his waist.  
"I'm the cook, the one who's in charge of the meals here. You're going to have a cake and you'll be happy about it, seaweed head."

Zoro continued vehemently denying it, yet Sanji insisted on making a cake when his birthday came. Zoro entered the kitchen shortly after sunrise and saw the chef already cooking, the pink apron dyed white because of the flour. He didn't like sweets, he repeated to the other several times, already irritated. He never did ever since he was a child. The chef disagreed. According to him, anyone could enjoy anything as long as it was prepared by a skilled person. Tsc. If he wanted to waste his time and ingredients, it was none of Zoro's business.

As soon as the piece of cake touched his lips, the taste reached his papillae, exploding in his mouth. It was the sweetest thing he'd ever liked. It was sweet, but it had acidity, it was not too sugary, on the contrary, with every bite the urge was to eat more. The taste caressed his mouth, as if it had been specially made for him, and actually it was: Zoro knew that the chef had tested the recipe all day until it was perfect, since Luffy spent all day by his side devouring all the imperfect versions that he received.

If he remember well ... other things about the chef were also sweet ...

As much as the chef denied, his dedication, kindness, and concern were the most tender thing about him. Sanji's smile in his direction as he saw the satisfaction and surprise stamped on the swordsman's face as he tasted his food was the sweetest he had ever seen on the chef's lips.

The chef's lips, which were usually urgent and rushed, sometimes kissed him with odd sweetness, carefully calculating each movement gently and moving his thin lips slowly. His hands roamed Zoro's carved body, worshiping every inch of tanned skin, the gentle, velvety touch of those hands that were so precious to the cook. It was kind of weird being treated so sweetly but Zoro thought he could get used to it from time to time.

Unlike the usual conversations between the two, which involved a lot of swearing, insults, before turning to physical "talk" with kicks and blows of swords, Sanji's confessions were very sugary. Lovey-dovey. Someone might call it sappy, but even so Zoro liked it. And the sweet nothings Sanji whispered in his ears as he was overcome with pleasure from nightly activities made the swordsman blush more than any dirty talk.

He was always alone and he never liked sweets. But what changed in his life was this man. The annoying, unbearable man whose kicks hurt like a bitch and had a surprising sweetness inside of him.

Zoro felt something running down his face. It was salty. His tears were salty.


End file.
